Buried in Broken Dreams
by kylermalloy
Summary: Not the loud wails of an infant seeking a mother's arms, of a child seeking attention and comfort. No, he cries silently, body shaking with sobs, pressing his face into a blanket that comes away damp with tears. He cries out of hopeless fear, of forlorn despair in his perceived solitude. Title inspired by lyrics of Ruelle's The Other Side.


So...I thought I was over the worst of my klelijah feels...but it turns out I'm not. Enjoy yet another of my TO fics where I like to hurt Klaus!

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He cries in his sleep.

Not the loud wails of an infant seeking a mother's arms, of a child seeking attention and comfort. No, he cries silently, body shaking with sobs, pressing his face into a blanket that comes away damp with tears. He cries out of hopeless fear, of forlorn despair in his perceived solitude.

Elijah can feel it in their cramped sleeping space, feel his trembling. With his back to the rest his brothers, Niklaus curls in on himself. A tight, tense ball of misery.

Elijah knows not what his brother grieves in his dreams—although he suspects they might be the same images that haunt his own wandering, sleepy mind.

Like the time Father bullied Niklaus into tears, shouting into his son's face as his bottom lip quivered and his eyes glazed over with liquid. Elijah averted his eyes. He'd done his best to shut out the taunts and fix his gaze on the ground—knowing Niklaus was shooting glances his way, pleading, _begging_ for some kind of help.

Or when their father dragged Niklaus into the forest by his arm. Rebekah begged Elijah to go after them, squeezing his hand to the point of pain. And instead he pulled her away, and the two fled to the other side of the village, cutting wood to block out the sounds drifting from the trees.

Or the time when he and his siblings slipped away on an illicit adventure to visit the neighboring village, the people who lived by the moon. Though all five of them trooped back well past dark, against Father's orders, only Niklaus spent the next week nursing bloody wounds on his back.

Elijah remembers all of these at once, and guilt curdles in his stomach. All of these incidents have occurred within one year, all to the boy who has not yet turned ten. The boy who now cries in his sleep.

"Niklaus," Elijah whispers, inching toward his trembling body. "It's all right, Niklaus." He drapes one arm over his brother's shoulder, pulling their bodies closer together. He presses his forehead to the back of Niklaus's head. Anchoring them. "Hush now." If his crying woke Mikael, their father would not be so kind.

Niklaus relaxes under Elijah's arm. Sobs peter off to quieter hiccups. Still unconscious, he draws Elijah's hand in close to his cheek, where Elijah can feel the wet streaks cut by his tears.

Only a few years have passed since Niklaus slept with his thumb tucked inside his mouth. The pain of a swollen lip put an end to that habit.

A shudder runs through Elijah's body. "Brother," he murmurs. "What evil does Father see in you?"

It has long been apparent that Mikael's ire toward his children is not equally spread. Niklaus takes the brunt of his wrath without half the effort that Kol puts in.

It sickens Elijah, thinking of the undeserved misery Niklaus endures. It sickens him—almost as much as the realization that he would not trade places with him, with his closest little brother. The mischievous boy who pulls his baby sister's hair but rocks her to sleep at night. The quiet artist who mixes paints out of berries from the woods, who eagerly shows Elijah new shades and hues.

As he grows older, even now learning to wield a blade, Elijah loathes nothing more about himself than his unwillingness to protect Niklaus, to stand up against their father—to risk experiencing what gives his brother nightmares.

Niklaus seizes up again without warning, whimpering faintly in his sleep. He might have been saying, _please, please._

"Shh." Elijah pulls Niklaus into him. He whispers meaningless reassurance into his sweaty curls. "You're all right. I'm here."

He is _not_ all right, nor does Elijah's presence ensure his safety. Because despite what their mother claims, Elijah does not feel noble at all. A nobler man would have stopped Niklaus's suffering long ago.

It's not the first time he has contemplated running a blade through his father, killing the man who has caused all of them the most misery in their time on this earth. Yet the same doubts and fears as always quash the thought before it can fully form. _I cannot. It isn't right. I am not strong enough._ _He would kill me first._

He cannot. Not even for his little brother. Not even for Niklaus.

As Elijah holds him, Niklaus seems to sense the warmth and proximity. He burrows closer, still clutching Elijah's hand. His breathing has slowed, the hitches and sobs giving way to the deep, even breaths of a peaceful sleep.

"No more tears, then, brother?" Elijah allows a hint of a smile to cross his face, satisfied with his efforts for now. If he cannot rid Niklaus of their father who torments him, at least he can create for him this moment of peace.

He settles his head back against his brother's, closes his eyes, and prays for a dreamless slumber.

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Thank you for reading! I'm still not over The Originals ending, in case this fic didn't tip you off. Let me know what you think! Comments feed my SOUL. I'm on tumblr too, hop over and say hi!


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